Path to Paragon
by McFisty
Summary: Based on the comic crossover series between EA and Marvel Comics...Comes the story of the Imperfects. Still a work in progress, and my first FanFiction. Feedback would be nice, anything to help me improve.


"You know that's bad for you, right?" piped up Keith to his electrified comrade.  
"Does it look like I care?" Johnny responded, keeping his hold of the cigarette between his pursed lips. Keith let out an irritated sigh at his partner's attitude, something, after months of exposure, he still has yet to adapt to. The pair stopped as their cobblestone pathway ended abruptly. They had been trekking through miles of forest for at least an hour now, investigating a distress beacon from one of their research drones. The two were dropped in the forest to their own devices, in the dead center of a cold region of Quebec, Canada. At the center of the grassed area, stood a small cabin. It was a simple structure, not exactly house but not a shack either. Smoke billowed out the stack atop it, obviously whatever was in there had some sort of fire brewing.  
The two had been working together since their transformations, since the day Niles Van Roekel had forced the two together in a rather unusual environment. Two, of seven very different individuals, forced into co-operation by a single man, that being unfortunately the very man who had created them. Keith Kilham, brilliant young scientist, once on the verge of the largest breakthrough in medical science in the last decade. The Legacy Virus, a deadly, seemingly incurable disease that has taken more lives than Influenza. Kilham was nearly on the verge of finding a cure for the deadly virus, nearly on the way to the discovery of a lifetime, until tragic struck. A terrorist cell had somehow snuck an explosive device in the laboratory Kilham was working in at the time, unbeknownst to him or any of the other scientists. The bomb went off suddenly, releasing the Legacy Virus as well as locking Kilham inside the laboratory. Badly wounded and panicking, Kilham, out of a moment of raw survival instinct, injected himself with as much of his experimental vaccine serum as he could. It was at least a week before authorities had found Kurt, in a fragile state. He was alive, albeit barely, but there was also something else. The experimental vaccines had begun breaking down the bonds of his cells at an exponential rate, faster than they could possibly reproduce. Paramedics were astounded at the quickly deteriorating condition of his body cells, unable to produce any possible cure for him. A spot of tragic irony, perhaps. The man was slowly being killed by the very thing he created, to destroy something not nearly as deadly. It was at this point Roekel's scientists had taken interest in Kilham's peculiar "condition". Niles Van Roekel, backed by a team of elite scientists and advanced alien technology, found a way to harness the potential of Kilham's deteriorating condition, and, in turn, stopping it from consuming all of his body. Roekel and his scientists had crafted a semi-organic, flexible, yet surprisingly durable exoskeleton, infused with advanced nanotechnology to hold his extremities, salvaging as much of his organs as they could. Because of the semisolid membrane of the exoskeleton, concentrated amounts of the unstable serum seeped through his "skin", creating acidic properties to it. He was taught to harness the toxic substance from his body, using it to form solid poisonous projectiles, and strands of viscous, elastic material, capable to support intense pressure, and when attached to solid surfaces may allow him to swing long distances quickly. All of this, however, has left his physical makeup horrifically altered. He must wear a filtration mask to keep the toxic substance in his body, his breath a thick venomous haze because of it. His body is a neon green, all of his skin having been dissolved from his body, the only organic parts of himself being his organs and extremities. His codename became Hazmat as a result, following the orders of Roekel, convinced that he will eventually be able to create a new cure for his condition.  
Keith scowled at his partner's foul mood, even more foul than usual. Times had not been forgiving for any of them. Keith's partner, Johnny, had a tendency to be rather inconsiderate to all of his teammates. The only person he has ever been known to show any morsel of respect for, was Roekel himself. Johnny, like all of them, has had a rather bleak, rough past. John Oliver Savage was born and raised in the suburbs of South Carolina, his father was often not around, leaving Savage to be raised solely by his mother. His mother had tried her best to discipline the boy, her words of restraint and rules falling upon deaf ears. The Savage family had little money at their disposal, unable to properly pay for electric bills. John's mother had tried, in both money and other ways, yet each time she just ended up losing more. This poverty instilled an overwhelming hateful feeling in John, causing him to form a natural distrust for others. Soon, John went on to commit various criminal acts, minor at first, growing in magnitude after each one. At the age of twenty seven, John had gone from petty thief to murderer and armed robber. A few young men were causing trouble in the bar John just so happened to be attending at the time. Being the experienced bar fight brawler that he is, John managed to dispatch the group of men, the police, however, seeing the sight before them, apprehended John instead, after finding one of the young men dead. Though stubbornly defending his innocence, John was convicted guilty in the account of battery, second degree murder, and resisting arrest. He was sentenced to death by electrocution, the last man to be put on death row, until a law would be passed to ban it. Both attempts at John's electrocution failed. On the third try, the prison was suddenly struck with a stray bolt of lightning, triggering a prison-wide blackout. The medic on duty was astonished to find John had not only survived the first three electrocutions, but his entire body had little to no marks to prove he ever endured them in the first place, despite a path of scarred tissue on his right pectoral muscle. The law had been passed shortly after, forcing law officials to give John jail time instead, albeit not exactly much better in John's opinion. In time, one of the police officers will admit to the murders on his deathbed, however it did nothing to reanimate John's willingness to live. It was at this time Roekel and his scientists took a general interest in John. Days later after his confinement, "John" was found to have hung himself from the ceiling of his cell. This was all a ruse, of course, as Roekel had paid off the guards an immense amount of dollar to set the convict free. Roekel used John's natural resistance to electricity to his advantage, and John was more than willing. Along with the help of their advanced alien technology, Roekel and his scientists had hundreds of terminals implanted into John's body, turning him into a makeshift capacitor. Much like a giant tesla coil, John had gained the ability to draw electricity from the air, through the terminals, and project it in whatever form he required. Due to John's violent past, he quickly adapted to the rigorous training programs, being the first Imperfect to finish them with a perfect score. Now, he he fights as the electric warrior himself; Johnny Ohm.  
Johnny scuffed the dirt with his sneaker, goggle clad eyes set to the ground. He donned a ragged, torn pair of jeans, with matching blue and white Nike sneakers. Various tattoos lined his chest, arms and back, the largest being a pair of white feathered angel wings stretching across his muscular shoulder blades. During his time away from the Hole, his special name for a prison, he had managed to grow some hair, short, neatly kept crew cut jet black hair. Johnny is forced to keep it regulation length, else he would be forced to smell the wafting scent of burning hair every time he conducted electricity through the capacitors, many of which located atop his skull. The smoke from the lit end of his cigarette drifted up into the air, yet even so causing Keith to cough. Keith, even through all the enhancements, injections, and special training, was still very susceptible to colds, and just so happening to be a victim of asthma. Acidic fluid dripped off his body, creating a hissing sound as soon as it touches any material, corroding a tiny crater with each drip. It would probably be safe to assume Keith was one of the most changed, one of the most altered of all the Imperfects from his human form. His body appears a light, almost luminescent green pigment, the toxic substance of his body revealed by the transparent exoskeleton containing what remained of his body remained inside the suit, albeit appearing pale and on the verge of sickly. Long black latex gloves covered his arms up to the middle of the forearm, formed from a durable, malleable fabric, able to withstand excessive heat and radiation. His pants were made from the same material, the fabric clinging to his legs and feet, allowing free movement, vastly important due to Keith's ability to bend and twist to near impossible angles, this being a result of his lack of proper bone structure. A black structure can be seen strapped across his stomach inside the exoskeleton, two white tubes curling out of it to the upper part of the membrane, keeping proper fluid control between the upper and lower parts of the suit, effectively managing a failsafe system if the suit were to leak the venomous compound. That same latex material covered his shoulders halfway to the arms, stretching up the back of his neck and head, complete with a grate across where his mouth would be, able to close or open on command. His feet dragged across the ground, limbs limp at his sides as he walked, head drooping down to the ground, due to his only real support being the brittle bones of his slowly corroding body and durable exoskeleton.  
"We should be getting back to Roekel..." Keith rasped out. His voice had always sounded weak and uneasy, but since his transformation, it had become far more strained and painful. Each breath triggered a heavy, painful wheeze, every exhale loosed a small cloud of toxic air.  
Johnny merely shrugged at his teammate. Two rough, calloused fingers plucked the cigarette from Johnny's lips, releasing one more exhale before dropping it to the ground, crushing rolled stick of chemicals beneath his sneaker as he walked past. More bright blue electrical sparks jumped from terminal to terminal, responding to the static electricity found naturally in the air. It was a near harmless side effect of Johnny's implants, something Johnny never seemed to notice. He obviously knew of it's appearance, he just cared little for the random static discharges.  
Keith gave an irritated sigh, turning into a harsh, cringing cough. At times, Johnny's personality was honest and relatable, what one would expect from the typical southerner, albeit a little rough around the edges. At most times, however, it was certainly not the case, some even coming to physical confrontations. Keith turned his attention to the task at hand in order to avoid strangling his comrade. In all honesty he was far from surprised, it certainly would not be the first time they found a random stranger living in the middle of nowhere. It was sort of their "thing", which wasn't exactly good.  
"Where's the beacon?" Asked Johnny, scanning the blemishless terrain the house was situated upon. "Was told it was a Predator. Things may be fast they sure as hell ain't small," Johnny pointed out the obvious problem, carelessly walking towards the mysterious house.  
Keith looked as if he were about to say something to his partner, though had apparently thought better of it, merely shaking his head and following behind the electric warrior. Johnny took no time to knock on the door, "Yo," he called to the door, in a poor attempt at mannerly behavior. When there was no answer, Johnny persisted with another knock, followed by a gruff, "Yo, we can see the smoke, open up this damn door before we tear it off the wall."  
Keith's eyes widened at the very thought, raising his hand to clasp it onto Johnny's shoulder, "We couldn't possibly just break into someone's house like that," Kurt tried his best to persuade the hard headed convict, to no avail.  
A "coincidental" surge of electricity traveled from two terminals that just so happened to be the two Keith's hand was between, causing him to retract his hand instinctively, even if the energy could barely hurt him. "If whomever's in here doesn't wanna comply," Johnny explained, not even bothering to turn to look at Kurt as he does, "then we have every right to bust down this here door."  
"Aren't we supposed to be heroes?" Keith persisted, utterly disgusted at the thought of breaking into an unsuspecting person's home. "Isn't that why Roekel saved us in the first place? To help people?"  
All Johnny could respond with was a soft chuckle, following with, "Boy," he raised an electrified palm to press against the oak door, each finger spacing evenly across its surface. "For a doctor, you sure ain't any smart," Keith only watched, unable to respond to the ominous counter to his pleas. A surge of electric energy ran from terminal to terminal along Johnny's body, travelling across hundreds of separate conductor terminals in a matter of nanoseconds, reaching a focal point at the center of the man's palm. In a split second from when it began, blinding blue light lit up the area, as a bolt of raw electrical might crashed straight through the solid oak door, the intense heat searing up its wooden frame to such a degree the rest of the wood turns a charred black as splintered wood scatters across the hardwood floor. As the sounds of clattering wood settled, still no response was to be heard from inside. Johnny stepped over the shattered, charred splinters that was once a door, heading inside the home. Much to Keith's discontent, he decided it was best to go with Johnny's lead. Keith looked up to realize the small one story house was apparently much larger than what could be seen from the outside. Surprisingly well furnished as well, going by standards that usually contain random houses in the middle of a seemingly untouched land. The floors were hardwood, Keith guessed cherry at best. The architecture inside the house was rather strange, there being no doors in the interior, the doorways to the next room lined with tall wooden arches. It seemed too perfect and clean for something found in the middle of uninhabited territory. On top of that, there seemed to be no one home, even though evidence suggests the place had been cleaned recently. The furniture wasn't any worn, and the floor was purely immaculate. Keith winced at the smoke that lifted off the floor from beneath his feet, the wood corroding at the toxins secreted from his skin. It pained him to leave a mark on such an immaculate floor.  
Johnny motioned up to the staircase leading up to the upper floors with a slight nod of the head, "Stop worrying about the decor, boy. We got a job," he informed Keith, before heading up the flight of stairs with haste. "Search the ground level since you're so interested in the floor," Johnny called out before reaching the top floor, walking down the hall and out of Keith's line of sight.  
Keith raised his finger, seeming as if he were about to say something, however must have thought better of it, letting his hand fall with an irritated groan. The Imperfect decided to continue on with the mission, though he was not entirely sure why. As Johnny had said, the distress beacon was from one of their Predators, large, extremely fast, floating armored vehicles, used to travel high up and far distances, or simply in an air strike as well. Needless to say, they weren't exactly pocket sized. So how a Predator could have crashed in the same general vicinity of this seemingly untouched house befuddled Keith, to a point where he simply couldn't find much reason to continue searching. Possibly the beacon landed somewhere in the woods, and their sensors could only pick up signals in the general area. It simply didn't add up to Keith. He walked from the living room to the kitchen, eyes swiveling about the room carefully. The kitchen was a modern kitchen, which was strange considering the style of seemingly ancient cabin out in the middle of nowhere. Keith looked over the table, fingers grazing the chairs as he walked past, then stopping at the counter. His pointed fingers ran over the marble counter gently, too much pressure he could dissolve the very stone itself. Keith looked at the stove, black cast iron atop a white oven. A frying pan sat on one of the stovetops, apparently having been used recently, which seemed entirely plausible due to the current state of the house. Keith picked up the frying pan by the handle, lifting it up into his field of vision, tilting his head to the side as he inspected it. He had forgotten the last time he had a normal breakfast. Due to his condition, eating food was impossible. He was fed through feeding tubes built into his suit, providing him nutrition via mental control. Before the accident, Keith considered himself an avid pancake connoisseur. He always used to make up new recipes on the fly, due to his tight work schedule it always had to be early morning. More oftentimes than not, Keith ended up cooking such pancakes for his co-workers at the lab whenever they had to work more than twenty four hours. It was the only time he ever needed to cook for more than one. His work always restricted his social life, which didn't allow many visitors at his six hundred square foot, one bedroom apartment. A familiar hissing sound snapped Keith back to reality suddenly, as he turned his attention back to the pan. The handle had dissolved in his hand, nearly chewed through entirely due to the prolonged contact. Keith quickly dropped the pan, it falling with a clatter against the floor.  
"What the hell was that?!" Keith heard Johnny yell from upstairs.  
"Nothing." Keith called back simply, knowing Johnny didn't have the attention span to listen to anything longer than that. He moved on from the kitchen, heading through the high arched doorway to what appeared to be a dining room. A dining cabinet sat against the far back wall, filled with expensive looking china, something someone would get once from a wedding and keep for life, much like what Keith's mother did herself. She had always complained to Keith she would need to get married again only for a new set of fine china and silverware. A solid, old looking dinner table sat in the center of the room, six chairs situated around it neatly. The walls were covered in a dark, mustard shade of yellow wallpaper. It appeared older, and possibly a rushed, home project, evident from the slightly peeling, messy cuts of the paper at the top of the ceiling.  
Keith started towards the next room, however stopped at a sudden noise from upstairs, followed by an abrupt; "Hazmat!" coming from Johnny. Slightly disturbed at his partners sudden, panicked outburst, Keith rushed out from the dining room, launching a tendril of his mucous-like secretion to the top of the stairs, flinging himself up instead of having to run up by foot. He dashed down the hall to the far door on the right, the door cracked open slightly. As he flung the door open, he stopped dead in his tracks, letting out a sharp gasp. The sight nearly made Keith gag. Johnny took a step back to the wall, his hand moving to clasp around his mouth.  
It was a small bedroom with a twin sized bed, but that wasn't the bad part. To the left of the bed frame, against the wall directly beside lay a bloody heap of bones and organs. It obviously had been sitting there for quite a while, Keith could tell by that god awful smell. The flesh seemed to be decaying at this point, flies and maggots crawling in and out from it. On the wall just above it, blood spattered across its wallpaper, spelling a simple, yet equally disturbing message;  
"WELCOME TO THE THUNDERDOME"

"Well. Get it then." Keith said to his colleague, nudging Johnny on the arm, to which Johnny responded promptly with a smack to the back of Keith's head. "Fine, fine…" Muttered Keith, slinking into a crouch. The stench was overwhelming. Luckily none of Keith's skin was ever present, though the entire concept of this action made him again heave in his mouth. His pointed fingers grasped at the beacon that was stuck firmly inside the poor victims liver, tugging at it. A repugnant squishing noise could be heard, a trail of decayed organic matter following behind, causing even a hardened criminal like Johnny to cringe. Keith tugged the glowing green beacon from the pile of organs and blood. Keith stood quickly afterwards, inspecting the beacon with his crimson eyes. "There's not much use to this now then, is it?" Asked Keith to no one in particular, before enclosing his fist around it, promptly crushing it.  
Johnny remained silent throughout the ordeal. Keith guessed the man was simply processing, trying to piece this information together. For all the things you could call John Savage, stupid was not one of them. Johnny cupped his chin between his thumb and forefinger, studying the cryptic message that lay before them.  
"I didn't know Dane Cook lived in Canada," Keith piped up, brushing off the shattered metal shards from his palms. Johnny didn't respond, staying mostly still, sparks spraying off from his terminals every now and then. "Then again all cool people come from Canada. Or at least Montreal-"  
"Shut up." Johnny snapped, turning to leave. " We need to report this to Roekel immediately,"  
"Since when were you the 'report back to base' type?" Keith asked, trying his best to avert his attention from the rotting flesh beneath him, looking at Johnny.  
"You're a doctor, ain't ya?" Johnny asked as he began walking down the hall towards the stairs. "Did that look like an animal liver to you?"  
Keith swallowed hard, not answering him. He made sure to shut the bedroom door as they got out.  
"Besides. Whoever did this has two intentions; Bring us here to piss off Roekel, and murder someone to piss off everyone else who cares about humans," Johnny continues, trotting down the steps towards the charred door.  
Keith seemed as if he were about to respond, until he felt a flat metal surface strike him in the back, though due to his alterations it simply bounced off harmlessly. A frightened shriek was heard, causing the two to turn around. There stood a young woman, a little over five feet tall, with wavy blonde hair that once could have flowed down her shoulders. Now it seemed frayed, however, knotted even in some places, the tips on the right side clipped off entirely. She had a young face, with big brown eyes that stared up at the pair fearfully. She had on a simple white top, tattered jeans on her legs, wearing only socks on her feet, them being black with multicolored stripes running up from the ankle. Her body could be considered easily average, not unattractive but nothing spectacular either. Keith judged she was in her twenties at least.  
Johnny wasted no time to make a good impression, sliding on an electric current to grasp the girl by the throat, pushing himself forward until he had her back against the side of the stairs, her screeching and clawing at his hand.  
"What the hell are you doing?!" Exclaimed Keith, rushing forward, concerned though still wary of the girl.  
"She attacked you!" Johnny yelled back, swiveling his head to him. Meanwhile the girl simply continued to scream long verses of profanity, scratching and pounding Johnny's fists with her fists.  
Kurt's eyes drifted in the general direction to which she had struck him. There on the floor was a frying pan, its handle being nearly corroded off, having apparently bounced harmlessly off Keith's 'skin'. Kurt gave a sigh, turning back to look Johnny dead in the eyes, giving him a surprisingly strong command; "Put her down."  
Electricity flared around Johnny's body, and Keith could tell murderous images flashed across his eyes behind those goggles. However, he complied, dropping the girl to the floor. He strode out from the house, electricity sparking and flaring around him. The girl collapsed against the stairs, coughing and breathing harshly, wide eyes staring up at him. "I-...Uh…" Keith stuttered, unsure of how to approach this. After all, they did just bust into her home completely uninvited. If this was her home. While it seemed unlikely, Keith also had to keep in the back of his mind this girl is the most likely suspect of the horrendous scene just upstairs. Though something told him in the back of his mind that a five foot girl with the upper body strength of a styrofoam box had not the ability nor intentions to gut a human being and quote a beloved movie in said victims entrails. Then again, he's been wrong before. There was no blood on her, that much blood would have been impossible to wash off. Her clothes didn't seem fresh either, lint clinging to her simple white top. She seemed legitimately frightened, enough to convince Keith she had no intention of meeting either of them.  
Unable to find out something to say, Keith simply offered her his hand to stand up, knowing very well she wouldn't take it. To which she didn't. The girl got to her feet on her own, hands shakily grabbing at anything around her to stand, eyes locked onto Keith warily. Keith knew how intimidating his appearance could be to the general public, a stark contrast to his docile personality. Therefore he was hardly surprised she would be so disgruntled to find such a stranger in her own home...again, Keith assuming she lived there.  
"Y-You…" Her eyes widened slightly, backing away a bit more. "You…I remember you…"  
Keith blinked, stepping away to give her breathing room. Me?!, Keith thought to himself, legitimately stunned for the first time in ages. Even if she knew the once great doctor Keith Kilham, Hazmat was certainly not Keith Kilham. His transformation turned him into a vastly different being than the man he once was, leaving him shocked at the fact someone would ever actually recognize him.  
"You fought Spider-Man…"  
Keith sighed at this, slightly disappointed. Yes, he fought Spider-Man. It seemed to be the only thing that he could be known for, considering it was the only time he was seen on national television, as the entire fight was broadcasted, apparently globally as well. "Yes...yes I fought Spider-Man." Muttered Keith, holding back the urge to roll his eyes. "Why are you here?" He asked, quickly needing to get back on task. "Do you live here?" Simple, but necessary to get to the bottom of whatever it is you could call this case.  
"I-..." The girl stuttered, trying her best to maintain some level of control over her speech. "Yes. Yes, I do live here...No...I don't know. My mother is home as well. She came home with that man...did you see her? Is she alright?"  
Keith lowered his head a bit, eyes averting her own. He had never had to convey news like that. Something told him that those remains upstairs weren't from said mysterious man. "We need to take you in for questioning," He stated with a nod, triggering a frightened step back from the girl.  
"Who?" She asked, panic starting to overcome her, quickly shedding all past pretentions of strength. "Who are you? Why do you need me?"  
Keith slid his hand over his head down to the back of his neck, trying to justify an easy response. "You just need to trust me," Is all he said. Of course she wouldn't trust him, he knew that. There was little to no real reason to trust either of them. Two random men show up at your house out of nowhere, and ask you to come with them, you would probably freak out as well. Not to mention the two of them look like something straight out of a comic book. Regardless, Roekel would never let him rest if he let her go. She was going to come back with them, willingly or not.  
Before Keith could exhibit any more of his expert persuading skills, Johnny walked back into the room, electricity sparking out from his body. An arch of electricity shot out from Johnny's man terminals, coming to a point, arching across the room in a flash, striking the woman in the chest. The woman gave a pained scream, the powerful electricity blast knocking her into the staircase, sliding down the wall and laying limp on the ground. Keith's eyes widened, turning to Johnny, (pardon the pun) shocked at his partners hasty strike.  
"She's not dead," Johnny said calmly, walking forward to pick the girl up, slinging her over his shoulder with ease. Her limbs swung to the ground limply, blonde hair falling around her unconscious face. "Calm down."  
Keith's hand balled up into a fist. "That was completely unnecessary," he snarls, walking up to Johnny fearlessly. Keith had a particular distaste for unnecessary violence. "You could've killed her for God's sake! Don't you ever think?!"  
"She's not dead," Johnny responded calmly, turning around, walking out of the house, the girl in tow.  
Keith sighed, exasperated. He followed his partner out of the house soon after, more than glad that this entire ordeal was over.


End file.
